Classic poem of the day
And yet if thou dost meet it not alone,
That weird grey morning over mountains blue
May be more sweet than thy soul ever knew
Or dreamed,—and lovelier than has yet been shown
To heart of poet which with pang and groan
Has struggled from old pain to suffering new.
When that last awful “grey dawn” thrills us through
Shall love not speak with mastering trumpet-tone?
Shall love not turn the “grey dawn” into gold
And touch the mountain......
Member poem of the day
Bitter Love
Li Bai (701-762)
The beauty sits behind a jeweled screen,
Lamenting him with lovely, furled brows.
When all I see are cheeks stained wet with tears,
I wonder, where’s the one who broke his vows?
| Chinese 怨情 李白 美人捲... |